


Keyword: Was

by Changing Times (QueenBoudicatheGreat)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: B is for Balcony, Gen, I just like writing best friends shouting at one another, My First Work in This Fandom, Or not, Platonic Relationships, amazing cat-like reflexes courtesy of Ryan Bergara, i'm too tired and old for this tagging system, poor hotel etiquite, shouting, the need for amazing cat-like reflexes courtesy of Shane Madej, there's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudicatheGreat/pseuds/Changing%20Times
Summary: Ryan grabbed his laptop and headed straight for the balcony with full intentions to answer some emails while the afternoon sun was still keeping things warm and there was no Shane to distract him. He was going to be productive. He was going to get stuff done.*_*Or, Ryan and Shane shout at one another from their respective balconies and the most exciting thing is Shane dropping his glasses*_*Or or, I randomly wrote 1.3K words of this instead of doing literally anything I'm supposed to, so now you all have to look at it.





	Keyword: Was

**Author's Note:**

> The platonic tag in this fandom is tragically empty, so I'm vowing to fill it myself. They're the best kind of best friends guys, come on. 
> 
> Also! If you work at BuzzFeed, want to work at BuzzFeed, know anyone working at BuzzFeed, know anyone who USED to work at BuzzFeed, or even look at the BuzzFeed office on a semi-regular basis, please click away from this! Do not look at it! Go away! I put this under registered users only for a reason! I refuse to own up to my actions!

Despite what Shane seemed to think, Ryan did at least try to book rooms in hotels that weren’t _awful_. For the most part, he felt like he succeeded. Granted there were a few in the mix that were… unsatisfactory, but usually the places they stayed, barring abandoned hospitals and prisons covered in all manner of unpleasantries, were pretty okay. Shane was just a baby.

 

This place, however, took the cake so far as lower mid-priced hotels went. First off, it was a proper hotel complete with a gym and free breakfast and an indoor pool. That was always good. The beds were also clean and soft and covered with a huge fluffy cloud of a duvet that Ryan knew would be crucial for getting warm tonight after stomping through their latest ghost site chilled him to the bone. Plus, they were absolutely massive beds that even Shane’s long-ass body would fit on. Even if his feet did hang off, Ryan wouldn’t have to listen to his muttered complaints because they were in different rooms. That detail had been a little off putting at first, but as soon as Ryan realized he could take as long as he wanted in the shower, he warmed right up to the idea. It meant he would have to go fill his ice bucket himself instead of whining unitil Shane got fed up with him and did it, but it also meant that he could be as noisy as he wanted when he woke up for his morning workout without risking a pillow thrown at his head.

 

By far the most exciting thing was the balcony. Ryan knew it was a little childish, but he’d always gotten a kick out of the idea of a tiny little patio suspended a hundred feet in the air. His favorite part of hanging out in Shane’s apartment was the fantastic LA view from the balcony. (Okay, maybe “fantastic” was a bit of a stretch, but it was better than the one window pointed straight at an office building that his place had.) So, after flopping down on that glorious bed for a while to rest after their six-hour drive, Ryan grabbed his laptop and headed straight for the balcony with full intentions to answer some emails while the afternoon sun was still keeping things warm and there was no Shane to distract him. He was going to be productive. He was going to get stuff done.

 

Keyword: _was_.

 

“Ryan! Ryan!”

 

Ryan looked around, brow furrowed at the sound of his name being shouted. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Hello?”

 

“Ryan, can you hear me? Pay close attention.”

 

He wouldn’t admit it on pain of death, but Ryan’s first thought was that he had finally made contact with a ghost. Then he quickly remembered that it was 3 in the afternoon and he was staying in a Hilton that was built in 2011. He also remembered that his best friend was an asshole who was pretty good at throwing his voice. “What do want, Shane?”

 

“No, Ryan, it’s not Shane. It’s a spooooky ghost!”

 

Finally managing to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, Ryan looked up to see Shane leaning over the edge of the balcony directly above his. His hair was a fluffy mess like it always was after travel, his glasses were precariously from his ears, his vlogging camera was in one hand, and Ryan could see his wide, shit-eating grin from where he was. “Are you done?”

 

“Yeah,” Shane said, voice back to normal. “I did spook you for a second, though, and all of the internet is going to see it.”

 

“You did not!”

 

“Yes, I did. I know your ‘Shane, I heard something!’ stance. You can’t lie to me.”

 

That was true. They couldn’t successfully lie to each other. You learn that kind of stuff about people when you live in each other’s pockets eight months out of the year and spend the other four hanging out as much as possible. Ryan knew he’d be called out for any lies and dragged for filth, so he didn’t lie. He changed the subject. “Why do you have your camera out anyway?”

 

“I was showing the internet what a nice place you managed to find. I actually fit on the bed here! Also, don’t think you’re getting out of this with a subject change. I will make you admit that you thought this hotel built in 2011 was haunted.”

 

“I’ll die first.”

 

“That can be arranged.”

 

Ryan narrowed his eyes up at Shane, glad that the sun had set enough that the light wasn’t directly in his face. Shane was leaning even farther over the little brick wall around his balcony, and Ryan briefly debated telling him to jump before deciding that was crossing a line he didn’t feel like crossing this afternoon. “If you want to talk to me, just text me or come down to my room. You’re gonna get us kicked out shouting like this.”

 

Even with his contacts in, Ryan couldn’t actually see it, but he knew Shane had rolled his eyes. “Please, like this is the worst behavior this place has seen,” he scoffed. “If we get kicked out for this, I’ll pay for the rooms myself.”

 

“Well, it’s rude to the other guests.”

 

“Wrong again, Little Ry.” He cut himself off, and  Ryan could tell that their faces were screwed up in matching looks of distaste. “I tried saying Ry and Little Guy at the same time.”

 

“Personally not a fan.”

 

“Definitely not.”

 

“Ry Guy has potential.”

 

“Eh, I’m not sold.” Shane shook his head. “Anyway. It’s--” he checked his watchless wrist then pulled out his phone, “-- 3:27 in the afternoon, so nobody is asleep. Hell, I doubt if anyone is even in their rooms.”

 

“Okay, that’s fair, but we still shouldn’t be talking like this. There are way more convenient ways, man.”

 

“But this is more fun!” Shane said, gesticulating wildly with his camera. Ryan would be worried, but he knew that Shane always wore the dumb wrist strap. “It’s like bunk beds for grownups.”

 

“You know, they have bunk beds for grownups,” Ryan pointed out. “Like actual beds that don’t require shouting at one another.”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Shane huffed, with a little toss of his head.

 

Almost like it was in slow-motion, Ryan watched as the clear frames of Shane’s glasses finally lost their tenuous grip on his head. He watched as Shane’s face switched to flustered panic as he flapped his hands around trying to catch them, but only knocking them further out of reach. Ryan threw himself against the railing of his balcony and bent over the top at the waist, arm outstretched. His feet came off the ground ever so slightly and for a second he thought he was surely going to meet the same fate as the glasses, but he righted himself and shoved his fist in the air, spectacles in his tight grip. Shane clapped and whooped and hollered for a moment before very seriously saying, “Ryan Bergara, I owe you my life.”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ryan said, “No thanks. I’ve seen it, and I’m not impressed.”

 

Shane let out an almost startled sounding wheeze before his laughter caught up with him. “You stole that from somewhere.”

 

Ryan grinned up at him, despite knowing he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, but I used it properly. Can’t steal flawless comedic timing. Now come down here and get your glasses.”

 

“What room are you in?”

 

“Same room as you, dummy. Just a floor down.”

 

“All right, all right. Since you don’t want my life, how about a burger? I’ve burned through my car snacks and I am starving.”

 

Ryan glanced at his laptop, which was still open on the table and displaying the home screen. He was going to be productive today. He was going to get stuff done.

 

“Yeah, okay. Let’s get some food in you, Sasquatch.”

  
Keyword: _was._

**Author's Note:**

> I've started a BFU blog over at https://thechangeiwannasee.tumblr.com/ It's basically empty atm, but you can follow it if you want. I'd love to yell about these dumbasses.


End file.
